Some Kind of Hell
by J. Jung
Summary: Severus Snape has the misfortune to be captured by some of his most ardent admirers. Read on for amazing scenes of violence, passion and drama...
1. Chapter 1

SOME KIND OF HELL

**Hey muggles, this was going to be a one-shot but it seems i can't stop talking so it may take a few installments...**

**Disclaimer: did it occur to anyone that if JK herself decided to indulge in some fan fiction she would be writing under a pseudonym and would partake in the usual etiquette of issuing a disclaimer... consider this article disclaimed.**

Usually when one regains consciousness it happens slowly, gradually; like a lump of submerged wood gliding to the surface of a still, deep lake. Well, Professor Snape reflected, he did feel somewhat like a lump of... something... rising from some kind of anonymous liquidy depths. Not unlike numerous unnamed potions he felt occasionally compelled to brew during one of his gloomy spells (i.e. all the time).

Sludge, depths, lump... What he would very much like to know is why he was regaining consciousness or rather, why he was unable to remember the reason for the loss of it.

It could be any number of things. He could be dead; although he very much doubted whether regaining consciousness was a typical side-effect of dying.

The Dark Lord may have become wise as to where Severus' real alligence lay - or he may just have been in a jolly mood and felt like a relaxing torture session to wind down at the end of a long and tiring day of dastardly deeds and general nefariousness. Same difference really.

Snape sighed. Although he was awake, for some reason he could not see. Whoever had knocked him out and captured him had also wrapped a piece of cloth around his head so that only his rather prominent nose poked through. He sighed again. He was too busy for this shit. He had five classes of unmarked exams piled on his desk, his 7th years had just handed in their mid-semester research essays and he was halfway through writing an article for the _PTA Review_. If the Dark Lord wanted to get his rocks off Professor Snape truly wished he would do it in his own time.

Footsteps. He could suddenly hear footsteps clipping along a corridor outside of the room in which he was being held. A pause as they reached the door, the sound of a key turning a lock. The door opened with an ominous creak and shut heavily behind the person (or was it more than one person?) who had just come into the room.

What fresh Hell awaited Severus Snape, he shuddered to think. Was it the Dark Lord in a mood; perhaps Malfoy had cracked and wanted to play dress up; or maybe it was Bellatrix Lestrange with her perverted sense of humour? After fifteen-odd years of maintaining a composed, blank exterior as a double-agent he was prepared and unafraid for what was to come. Something like this was bound to happen in the end.

The giggle that resounded in the silent chamber was perhaps a little unexpected but knowing someone like Bellatrix, was not completely out of character.

Snape steeled himself.

Someone giggled again along with several snorts of supressed laughter and a bout of furtive whispering, and more giggles, and more snorts until a confused Professor Snape could have bet on Dumbledore's life that he was being held up by some of his teenage students. This fleeting and absurd thought was prompted by the snide little voice in the back of his mind - the one he usually tried to suppress due to its disconcerting habit of pointing out inconvenient truths - suggested the recent influx of female students into his remedial potions class may have a slightly more sinister motif than merely general incompetancy.

The thought was quickly dismissed.

A person, who Snape assumed to be Madame Lestrange, walked around the chair, her shoes clicking on the tiled floor, and stood behind the professor resting her hands on either of his shoulders.

"Esteemed collegues," she began in a voice that echoed around the room. "Our efforts in breaching the Time and Space Continuum have not been wasted. We looked Quantum in the face and conquered it. We mastered the Limits of Reality; crushing them with a force to equal the very building blocks of civilisation-"

A voice from the audience cried out, interrupting the speaker "Stop talking crap and get on with it..."

Smoothly, as though without interruption, she continued. "And so, Comrades, I present to you the fruits of our labours: a man most of us have long desired to have at their mercy... Professor Severus Gregory Snape!" At which she whipped the cloth from around Snape's eyes and stepped back from the chair.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: The Muggles Are Playing Silly Buggers - A Game Professor Snape Does Not Appreciate**

**Author's Note: Please don't ask me why this is suddenly set in Australia... these girls just began opening their mouths and the voices of former classmates suddenly came pouring out. Really I can offer no better explanation than the fact that I am one...**

**Consider the story disclaimed**

The first thought that went through Snape's mind was his confusion at being named Severus Gregory Snape. Gregory was by no means his middle name and he said so to the assembled throng: "Gregory is not my middle name."

The second thought was sheer astonishment at finding himself not strapped to a chair in one of the dungeons of Malfoy Manor, surrounded by a bevy of Dark Wizards and Witches but at being tethered to a rather stylishly sleek black bar stool on a stage in an auditorium facing a multitude of young high-school aged girls. The ring leader, the one who had announced him, gave him a quizzical look at his pronouncement and replied, "Isn't it? Oh well..."

"What," said Snape in iced tones, "Is the reason for my presence here, pray? And why am I not to receive the pleasure of an audience in my office?"

The girl quirked the corner of her mouth at him but gave no reply other than an airy wave of her hand. She turned back to her peers and raised her arms in a majestic manner.

"Ladies, I beg of you to move closer and examine our guest - see that he is the genuine article. He is truly the Potions Master at Hogwarts School!"

As one the crowd surged forward and clambered onto the stage, all with the same hungry, deranged expression on their faces. Involuntarily Snape gave an inward shudder; he'd seen a similar expression on the face of the serpent, Nagini, as she moved to devour her prey. To his relief, however, the girls stopped short within about a metre of the stool.

"He's sort of... old looking Millie. Are you sure this is him?" Asked one girl with the expression of ill-concealed disappointment.

"Yeah, and his face is, like, really gross. Ew look at his hair..." Another girl with a face like an affronted chicken peered into Snape's. He leaned back in his seat.

Millie, their leader, at whom the questions were addressed looked a little doubtful as she inspected for the first time the visage of her hostage. "I guess this _is_ what was described in the books..." She trailed off, her voice uncertain.

"Yeah but Alan Rickman is, like, totally hot in the movies - for an older guy i mean." Said the first girl who had spoken.

"Oh my god Sonja, you are sooo gay! As if you would just base everything off the movies! I can't believe you're even here, you can _not_ call yourself a fan if you haven't even read the books." Chicken face guffawed.

"That's so true Kirsty", "Yeah, ommagawd", "Lol Sonja!" was the general concensus of the group.

Snape raised an eyebrow, the rest of his face appeared to be set in granite. A nerve ticked just below his right eye.

In a dangerously low voice and in tones the shade of arsenic he spoke, "I know not who or what Alan Rickman is, nor do I care. The rest of your... insults... will Keep. You will. I repeat, you Will release me. You will restore me to my former surroundings. And you Will. Leave."

There was silence.

"Gah, I looove the British accent, though!" Exclaimed a girl from the back of the crowd.

The tick resumed and spread to his right temple. His loathing of teenagers could not, he had thought, reach greater heights than that he experienced over his current students. Clearly he would have to rethink this assessment. The Australian whine of these teenagers was, possibly, worse than the accents of his charges and merely added a new dimension of horror to these proceedings.

He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly before twisting his head around to glare at the Millie girl. "For what purpose am I being held here?"

She gave him a dazzling smile flashing a set of white pointed teeth. "Why Professor, we have brought you here as a guest. We only want to let you know how much we all love you, and how we all love the books and how we think it's great what you're doing!" There was something odd about her smile. Snape, although he would never admit it, was feeling a little uneasy.

"What books?"

"Oh," and here she gave another little giggle. "How silly of me, you wouldn't know about those! There were seven books written about you telling everyone what you did and how you were a double agent for Dumbledore all along and everything!"

"Just about me?"

"Well, no. They're actually called the _Harry Potter_ series..."

Snape stiffened in his seat, closed his eyes and exhaled through his flaring nostrils. The girl saw this and waved her hands, "Oh no, no, it's OK... you play a big part, it all works out in the end. Although I do say you seemed a _leetle_ more dashing in the books..."

His eyes remained shut. "So tell me, madame, if this series was published as a fictional work," she nodded enthusiastically, "then how am I, a fictional character, able to be summoned here to be interrogated by you? In Australia?"

Her grin disappeared to be replaced with confusion. The other girls also lost their vapid smiles and began to look at each other in dismay.

"Oh, um..."

Existential doubt aside Snape was not too concerned; although his wand was firmly wedged up his right sleeve which currently was strapped to the back of the chair. Even if he attempted a non-vocal summoning charm he doubted if it could free itself from the bonds and he didn't particularly fancy incinerating the entire contents of the auditorium with one of the more exciting non-verbal spells in his arsenal. Besides, he always derived a certain amount of satisfaction from proving to a teenager that their reasoning is not always as infallible as they thought.

"So... ladies. What next? Or do you need a few more minutes to reflect upon the ill-conceived mess that is the situation you have plunged everyone into with regrettable haste. Perhaps you would prefer it if narrative causality rather than actual logic and realism held the order of the day?"

Millie narrowed her eyes and whipped around to face her entourage. "Disregard that. Everything is going to plan."

Turning slowly back to Professor Snape with the grin once more stretching itself across her face she said, "I think it's time to begin The Activities."

**Review ploise...**


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